


Batman: Phantasm of the Opera

by Kenobi97



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: F/M, Movie: Batman: The Mask of the Phantasm, Operas, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27418189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenobi97/pseuds/Kenobi97
Summary: One year following the events of Mask of the Phantasm, Bruce is haunted by Andrea's apparent death.  Until he is forced to reconcile how he must handle her return.
Relationships: Andrea Beaumont/Bruce Wayne
Kudos: 6





	Batman: Phantasm of the Opera

An all consuming darkness. Omnipresent and absolute in that quiet old cemetery. Solely broken by spindly lines of pure light. Gone in an instant so as to make one wonder if they were ever truly there at all. Uproarious applause erupted from the thunder clouds throughout Gotham’s night sky after each light show. As if to marvel at the momentary artistry descending from the heavens. A steady and pounding rain was rising in crescendo. Beating down upon the drenched hair and weatherbeaten coat of Bruce Wayne. He was talking to himself, or rather, to his parents. A habit that had been cemented in him by … Andrea. It had been far too long since he’d come here. The mission always seemed to take up his time. He told himself that the mission was dedicated to them, so if it impacted upon his visits … well they would understand. But lately, this mission, this … damned crusade, was starting to weigh heavier and heavier on the Batman. It was one year to the night since he last saw Andrea. Or as the media had dubbed her criminal alter ego following her string of murders, the Masked Phantasm. One year since the Joker had been seen. One year since organized crime in Gotham had practically been wiped out. Leaving a power vacuum in its wake. A power vacuum that left the streets slick with wannabe gangster blood as the rival bands fought for turf.  
“I can’t just … go back to the way things were. Each and every night I take bigger and bigger risks. And I leave just one more piece of myself on those rooftops.” He took out the locket that had been left in the Bat Cave. Whether by Andrea before that fateful final encounter … or after it if she had indeed survived. He had resigned himself to never knowing. But he kept that locket with him always. Close to his heart. “I loved her … I always will. And I failed her. Just like I failed you. But … I won’t fail this city. Never again. I will give my life for Gotham if that’s what it takes. If that is the blood price I must pay for peace.”  
Bruce walked as calmly as he could back to his car. Though all the while he could feel himself being watched from the shadows. He could practically hear his name on the wind. Could practically hear her last words to him. “Goodbye my love … Goodbye my love … Goodbye my love.” When he made it to the car he shut the door, drowning out that damned voice on the wind.  
It was just then, the car phone rang. It was Alfred’s voice. “Master Bruce have you finished your visit at the cemetery?” “Yes Alfred.” The Butler sighed and replied solemnly, “A call from the Commissioner just came in. Arthur Reeves was found hanged in his office. Stacks of hundred dollar bills stuffed into his mouth. A masked figure in a cloak was seen leaving the scene … The Phantasm is back.” Bruce saw the Bat Signal illuminate the Gotham skyline. He knew this would be a long night for the Dark Knight.

Batman carefully examined the crime scene in the former Councilman’s office. The body had been cut down from the ceiling. A look of pure terror still ingrained on his face. The symbolism of the now removed fortune in bills from his mouth was not hard to put together. He had wanted money for his silence. Tonight he had received a hefty amount. Ensuring his all too permanent silence. The money was damp with saliva but from what Bruce could tell, it was all counterfeit. Excellent forgeries though. Professional grade. Save for one detail that he needed a magnifying glass to discover. Each bill had a small inscription that repeated itself around the All Seeing Eye. “Your angel of death awaits,” Batman muttered to himself. The rest of the room was clean of any clues.  
Just the same chemical residue present on the rope that was found at each of the Phantasm’s crimes.

Batman returned to the Cave with little to go on save for confirming that it was Andrea behind this murder. His heart warred between relief that she lived and revulsion at her crime. Inside the Bat Cave already was Alfred who said calmly yet with a certain edge of worry in his voice, “Master Bruce, Andrea was here shortly after I called you. She wished for me to give you these, and tell you to meet her at the place where you will become her Aeneas. And she, your Dido.” Bruce closed his eyes and for a moment was lost in memory.

Ten years earlier …

Bruce walked arm in arm with Andrea Beaumont up the steps of the Gotham City Opera House. He was taking Andrea on their third official date. She had mentioned loving classical operas so he had arranged for the two of them to see Dido and Aeneas seated in his family’s balcony. The most luxurious one in the building. And sadly empty for all too many performances. Bruce was dressed in his finest suit. Alfred had fussed over his outfit all night trying to make it perfect. However when she came to his door, Andrea’s knockout purple gown with golden accents took Bruce’s breath away. Her little smirk indicated that she had hoped for just such an effect.  
Bruce led his date up the series of staircases towards the private gallery where they would wait for the show to start. Andrea smiled happily at Bruce, only illuminated by faintly glowing sconces, and said, “Thank you for taking me tonight. It was my mother who brought me to the opera for the first time to see Rigoletto. She absolutely adored the theater.” Bruce returned her smile with one of his own and replied, “My mother always loved coming here too. Her favorite was Mefistofele. She always believed that nobody was beyond redemption.” Andrea placed a hand on his and warmly said, “It sounds like she was a wise woman.” Before he could respond, the curtain pulled back to begin the performance. Bruce reached into his coat to pull out a small case and said “This is for you.” Andrea opened the case to find an ornate pair of opera glasses. Bruce continued, “They were a gift from my father to my mother.” She immediately replied, “No Bruce, I couldn’t take these they must mean so much to yo-” Bruce interrupted, “I rarely get to enjoy the opera. I know that my mother would want these to be used to enjoy great art. Not sitting on a shelf. Please.” Andrea nodded after a moment with a smile.

Back in the present …

Bruce was holding those very same Opera glasses. He turned to Alfred and asked, “Is Dido and Aeneas playing at the Opera House?” The butler nodded. Bruce was rushing from the cave an instant later. The damp air only furthering the chill down his spine as his hair stood on end. Whatever Andrea was about to do … he had to stop it. And see one last time if he could reach the woman that he loved inside her shell of pain and rage.  
Bruce knew that only the man that Andrea knew had a prayer of reaching her. Stripping off the Batsuit inside his bedroom, Bruce donned his suit and tie. He had a showing at the Opera to make.  
“Bruce! Bruce! Bruce!” A crowd of young socialites and husband hunters were waving frantically and attempting to nonchalantly position themself in very flattering poses. He hadn’t gone to a single party, or ball, or banquet, or charity gala for a year now. He just sent his usual donations, sizably increased as an apology for not attending. He hadn’t dated in that time. And he heard through society friends that all of the eligible ladies were positively in mourning. Instead when Bruce wasn’t out as his alter ego fighting crime he spent far too much time cradling a glass of red wine and just … staring into the fireplace. He drank more than he used to. Something Alfred had commented on more than once. The billionaire made a nonchalant wave to the women and walked past them, up the steps to the Opera House.  
The spiraling path up to the family balcony felt an almost Sisyphean climb on this night. As if Bruce’s legs did not want to move forward. As if they sensed with dread what was to come. Inside the balcony was a haze of fog. The Phantasm’s trademark. Bruce walked forward and said calmly, “Andrea, I know you are here. Please … talk to me.” The whispered voice of the Phantasm replied, “Andrea died one year ago. I am all that remains of what she was. Of what she was destined to be. And this specter will finally die along with her.”  
Bruce charged into the smoke struggling in vain to find the Phantasm. He whispered through gritted teeth, “Let me get you help. Please … I can’t lose you again.” A sad sigh followed by, “You can’t help her. You can’t fix her. She is alone now. Losing her will be painful perhaps … for a time. But you will finally move on. You will be stronger for it. That is what she would want.” With that the voice stopped, the mist vanished, and the performance began.  
Bruce had loved Dido and Aeneas, but this particular performance was a torture. For he was a bundle of nerves. Eyes forever on a swivel with his opera glasses. Seeking any sign of the Phantasm in the crowd, on the stage, anywhere in the hall that he could see from his perch really.  
At each loud burst of music he flinched. Bruce had a sneaking suspicion he knew when the Phantasm would make her move. The death of Dido. After her final aria. “Dido's Lament”. And he proved to be correct. At the very moment when Dido would be carried to her funeral pyre, from underneath the stage a trap door opened. And up came a pile of kindling. And at its center, Andrea Beaumont tied to a pole. In that same purple gown with golden accents from ten years prior. A thick mist engulfed the stage and over the loudspeakers boomed the voice of the Phantasm. “Andrea Beaumont, your angel of death awaits. You always were a shallow, self-interested, greedy little girl. Always needing the newest clothes. An expensive new car. A fancy house. You are a leech that drove your father to an early grave. And now your punishment is nigh.”  
Bruce had leapt from the balcony and slid down the curtains that hung along the wall as soon as Andrea had become visible. By the time the monologue was ending, flames had engulfed the logs around Andrea as if by magic. In moments, Bruce had leapt onto the stage and put all his strength behind throwing Andrea’s tied up body and himself off of the flaming pyre. He managed it, ending up only slightly singed in the process. Yet before he could even fully untie Andrea’s knots, she kicked him away in a fury and ran backstage. He recovered from the fierce kick to his gut and followed her. Followed her out the emergency exit of the theater. Through back alley after back alley. Until she was finally backed up against a wall. At a place that was sadly all too familiar to Bruce. Crime Alley. Andrea gripped a gun that she had pulled from a hidden holster strapped to her thigh. At that very moment, the trembling gun was pointed at her own head. She said in a shaky scream, “You’ve ruined everything! Leave! Now!” Bruce held his hands up placatingly and with a desperate hitch in his voice said, “I’ll not leave you. Never again.” He chanced a step forward. Only seven or so paces separating Andrea from him. She gritted her teeth and replied, “I won’t ruin your life too Bruce!” He said calmly, taking another two steps, “There is only one way you can do that. By pulling that trigger. Because if you do, I won’t hesitate to follow suit.” She had a fierce glint in her eye and shot back venomously, “You’re lying. You would never do that. The people of this city need you. You know that.” Bruce took another three steps. “Andrea, you mean everything to me. I won’t lose you again. I won’t fail again.” She seemed to hesitate for a moment. And in that moment Bruce struck.  
He grappled her tightly and began attempting to restrain her arm. To wrestle the gun from her grasp. But she squirmed and struggled. As a warrior with self-defense training herself, she was able to put up a good struggle. Suddenly a gunshot went off. Deafening in sound. He looked down and saw the slowly spreading pool of red spreading across his dress shirt and with a surprised grunt fell upon the cold asphalt of that infernal alley. So cold. He could see their deaths happening right in front of him. See the place where they fell right in front of his eyes. His blood pooled to meet their own. And the last words of his mother as she turned her face towards him were repeated yet again. “It’s okay love … don’t be afraid.” It felt … oddly fitting in a comfortingly macabre way that it would all end here. For the Dark Knight’s Crusade to end right where it all began. He could see Andrea cradling him in her arms and her repeatedly saying something just on the edge of hearing. It was then that everything simply faded to nothingness.  
Bruce awoke some time later in a brightly lit room. Almost ethereal in its brightness. He mused for a moment that this must be heaven, and he was surely dead. Then he saw Andrea. Asleep in the chair beside his bed. Clear signs of exhaustion under her eyes. Hair a mess. Mascara running in black streaks down her face. A doctor came in shortly thereafter and said, “Mr. Wayne, it is good to see you awake. For a few hours it was touch and go. Your friend refused to leave your side. I know the police will be eager to get your statement for the description of your attacker when you feel up to it.” Bruce nodded tiredly before asking in confusion, “How did I survive? What happened?” The doctor pulled out of his pocket, Bruce’s locket with Andrea’s picture nestled within. There was a bullet hole that went straight through it and through the picture of his love. The doctor explained, “This saved you. The shot would have gone straight through your heart if this hadn’t deflected the bullet into your left lung. We couldn’t save the lung so I wouldn’t recommend any strenuous physical activities in the near future. In all honesty, very taxing activities would be inadvisable likely for the rest of your life.” Bruce nodded tiredly. Knowing in his heart that the Batman had died in that alleyway after all.

Twenty years later …

Bruce sat beside his wife Andrea looking intently at the roaring blaze in the fireplace. Cradling a glass of red wine and hugging his beloved close. She whispered to him, “It’s the anniversary you know.” He nodded before placing a kiss atop her head. It was always a dark day for her. A day when she remembered her various crimes. Crimes that though in her mind were just in their own way, still weighed heavily upon her soul. With proper psychological care by discreet therapists, Bruce had been able to help her over the years. That was half his mission now. To be there for the woman he loved. The other half was to raise the orphan that had come into their care. A young man named Dick Grayson who had become his ward when his parents were gunned down. The boy had eventually discovered the secrets of the Batcave and was determined to learn the ways of the Bat. So Bruce taught him. For the Batman was a symbol. And Grayson was a very good student. He was now a fully fledged warrior after years of intensive training. Fighting crime on Gotham’s streets as Nightwing. In an alliance with Barbara Gordon, the new police chief that had filled her father’s position after his inevitable retirement.  
At the end of the day Bruce could rest easily knowing Gotham was in good hands. And so was Andrea. His love and devotion. His patience and commitment to getting Andrea help had exorcised the demon of the Phantasm from her. And he was devoted to ensuring it never returned to haunt her psyche ever again.  
In that roaring fire he stared at so intensely, Bruce saw the crackling logs send their brief flares of cinders into the air. And in those cinders he saw his legacy. For the briefest of moments, Bruce swore he saw the outline of a bat in flight before it was swept away into the nothingness of the dimly lit room. He hugged Andrea closer and whispered to her, “I know. And I’m not sorry for it. You were what I needed. Always. You will always be enough for me.”


End file.
